Carole Page - Cassandra's Song

“More Italian cuisine?”

“No, it’s too late for a big fancy meal. How about the little coffee shop around the corner? They’ve got great burgers.”

“Burgers it is. Why don’t you leave your car here and ride with me?”

She looked up and caught his infectious smile. “Okay, Antonio. Lead the way.”

He escorted her across the parking lot to a large luxury sedan, a deep burgundy color with a black leather interior. He opened her door and she slipped inside. “A beautiful car.”

“Not as beautiful as its passenger.” He lingered a moment, his eyes fastened on her, then went around to his side, got in, and they were off.

As he drove she cast several surreptitious glances at his finely chiseled profile. He was a gorgeous man, no doubt about it! Even in sport shirt and slacks he looked debonair. And yet he seemed completely unaware of his stunning good looks.

In the coffee shop, as they ordered burgers and fries, she realized he looked too cosmopolitan for a greasy spoon like this. She fidgeted with her water glass, the napkin, the silverware, silently chastising herself for not suggesting a more sophisticated restaurant.

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